


Good Enough

by ChibiFrieza



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiFrieza/pseuds/ChibiFrieza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more things change, the more they stay the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Title and fic inspiration taken from [White Knuckles](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HfmY6kYfXs) by OK Go.

_’cause nothing ever doesn’t change, but nothing changes much._

*

It’s cold. Really cold, too cold even to snow. There’s about six inches already packed in the alley anyway, squeaking hollowly beneath small boots. The sky is a uniform grey, halfway between dove and gunmetal, and the lamps will be coming on soon even though it’s nowhere near evening.

Two boys are walking home from school. The frigid air stings their cheekbones a hectic pink above ragged scarves. The act of breathing shrivels the insides of their small noses, proof that the temperature has dropped below zero.

The older boy walks a little ahead, forcing the younger one to hurry. They squeak along without speaking; it’s too cold to talk, even to complain that your brother is going too fast, or too slow.

Only four more blocks. They’re nearly home.

*

The grass is kinda brown and the breeze messing up the palm trees has a kick to it. Jacket weather.

The corner of the library’s a bit chilly, and it doesn’t help that he’s sitting right by the window. Exams start tomorrow. He’s only freaking out a little. 

He sniffs; his nose is cold and running slightly. His dorm’s warmer, but distracting, even if he were trying to sleep and not study. He’s still not quite used to the way his roommate breathes.

Eventually he gives up. After four months on campus, he knows the quickest route back to the dorm like the back of his hand, but he alters it slightly to stay indoors as much as possible. It’s not really that cold. It’s just the contrast.

Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

*

He hates bleeding on the snow. So obvious. He’s okay with crude, but the red’s so bright it’s almost obscene. _Hey, check it out, somebody got a chunk torn out of him right over here._ No, thanks.

The aesthetics of the whole bleeding situation should really be the least of his worries, but he’s probably in shock. That would explain the cold. Or, no, that’s what the snow is for.

There’s a shape bent over him. Only one. For a second it feels like the inverse of seeing double, so strong is the conviction that someone is missing.

Hell of a hunt.

*

Latchkey kids, they called them for a while, before it became comfortably, if regrettably, established that a certain percentage of children went home to an empty house.

The older boy pulls out the key, lets himself and his little brother in and deadbolts the door behind them. There’s a label, but it doesn’t begin to cover their reality.

Dad might be home tomorrow. Or it might be a few days. Nobody’s sure.

The house is a little cool, but it’s a haven after the piercing cold of outdoors. Sinuses ache as they thaw; noses drip with frost melting off of nose-hairs. Boots are kicked off, jackets hung up with scarves and mittens stuffed in the sleeves.

Homework is done. Dinner is microwaved.

“Can we have hot chocolate, Dean?”

“Sure.”

It’s just the two of them.

*

“Son of a _bitch_.”

“Quit squirming. I could be done by now.”

“I’m not _squirming_.”

“Not anymore, no. There.”

“Coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, here. Wow, look at it come down. Looks like we’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“Looks like it. Maybe that’s a good thing, dude, you’re gonna have a shiner.”

“Oh, and you look so much better.”

“I _always_ look better. It’s one of those things, like a natural law or something.”

“Whatever. Give me those, I’m starving.”

“Gotta earn ‘em, dude.”

“Pretty sure I just did. Unless you wanted that to get infected?”

“Yeah, not so much.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

“Yeah, whatever. Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [Livejournal](http://http://chibifrieza.livejournal.com/495787.html). Thank you for reading; comments are appreciated!


End file.
